My Dad Was A Pain In The Ass

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just before his eighteenth birthday, on a boat in the middle of a lake, a boy learns just how little he knows about his father, and just how much his father knows about him.

Submitted: January 31, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 31, 2008



My Dad Was A Pain In The Ass

My dad was a pain in the ass.
Don’t bother asking me to explain that, because I won’t.
No. I said don’t bother.
You can stop asking right now. It’s not going to happen.
Well, alright. Since you won’t let up, I guess I can fill you in - but, just a little. Any more than that, and I’ll have to write a book; and you know I don’t like dealing with publishers.
Like a lot stories, you know I’m going to say “It all started when....”
Yeah, I knew that wasn’t going to be a surprise.
Well, let’s get it over with.
It all started when....

It all started when my father took me out to the lake on his boat. The thing was more like a glorified canoe; just a little bigger, and it had a storage compartment under one of the small seats.
I think it was meant to be a fishing boat, but my dad never fished. He’d just take that little boat out, and sit in it out of sight of the shore for a few hours. Just listening to the small waves knocking against the metal hull, making that ‘thud, clunk’ kind of sound.
He’d never told me why he liked it, other than “I just do.” Though, I’d thought he liked to let the waves hitting the boat put him into a trance, and escape whatever was on his mind. If there were too many bills that came at once, and he was getting frustrated, us kids would watch him stand up, walk to the door, grab his coat if it was a cold day, and walk out toward the boat. If my sister wouldn’t stop crying because her doll’s head had mysteriously disappeared (gee, I wonder how that happened), and my dad knew it wasn’t going to last for very long (after one of us brothers somehow found the missing head buried half a foot down in the front yard), off he’d go to the boat.
If he was in his room missing mom, or some kind of human touch, I’d hear him in the middle of the night opening his bedroom door, and heading out of the house. I actually caught him on his way out a few times. My bedroom was right next to his, so if he made a loud enough sound, or moan, I’d wake up, and sometimes open my door to see what was going on. I should have figured he was a few marbles short of a full game then, seeing as how that late at night, at about one in the morning when everyone else was asleep, he didn’t even bother getting dressed before he left. ‘Course, it did give me a good idea of where I got my, very nice, very appreciated gift from, but that’s neither here nor there.
Anyway, my dad and I were out on his boat. I was seventeen at the time; the oldest kid in the bunch of five. My oldest brother was fifteen. My sister was almost ten.
My youngest brothers were twins at eight years, four months, three days, thirteen minutes and seven seconds; and eight years, four months, three days, thirteen minutes, and forty-five seconds. As far as I really cared, they were almost eight and a half, but they insisted on everyone remembering the exact amount of time, just so we always remembered which was born first.
So, dad and I were sitting there. We’d taken off our shoes, and set them aside. I had an open can of soda in my hand. He had a still unopened can standing next to his right foot. He had his eyes closed, just listening to the ‘thud, clunk’ of the waves hitting the side of the boat. I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out what was so intriguing about it, but I just didn’t get it.
The sun was out, and it was one of those really warm spring days. I was starting to sweat, and was wearing a heavy shirt, so I took it off.
“Put that back on.” Dad told me, still keeping his eyes closed. I told him I was getting hot. “Put it back on.” he said. “It’s going to get colder in a minute.” I grumbled a little to myself, but I put the shirt back on, and took a drink of my slowly warming soda.
About a minute later, the sky started to cloud over, and block out the sun. A few seconds after, a breeze started blowing from the west, and cooled me off. The soda in my almost empty can was still warm, but I felt better, so I didn’t care as I finished it off.
I went to set the can next to my foot, but I had a strange feeling that I shouldn’t. It beats the hell out of me why I felt that way. I just got this notion that next to my foot was the wrong place to put it. Instead, I reached my hand over the side of the boat, and dropped the can into the water. I heard a small splash when it hit, but didn’t see it. I was looking at my dad to see if he’d object.
He was smiling.
- You are so weird. - I thought to him. I knew he couldn’t have heard that, but for a second, I could have sworn his smile turned into a smirk-just for a second-then back to a smile. As I took a moment to think about that, I looked over the edge of the boat at the can I’d just dropped. It was still there. It was standing upright, like I had dropped it on a table-that is, if the table were covered with moving water that made the can rise and fall. It bobbed up and down on the little waves, like a buoy in the middle of the lake we were on.
The can really wasn’t that interesting, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off of it. I stared at it more when I realized that empty cans dropped onto water ...well, just didn’t act like that. They’re supposed to tip over, and fill little by little as the open end dipped again and again into the water. They weren’t supposed to keep standing. But, I just figured this one had to be erect because of how I’d dropped it, and I let the “weirdness” of it go. After all, it wasn’t all that weird to begin with.
I had just noticed that the can had started to spin in place as I took my eyes off of it. Again, though, not that weird.
Dad was holding his newly opened can in his hand, making small circles in the air with the bottom of it, gently swirling the soda within the metal tube.
I looked up at his face. He was still smiling. I looked down to my feet.
I had been wanting to talk to him for a long time now; been wanting to share something with him. But the time was never right, or I was too scared; or Mars wasn’t aligned properly with Jupiter, or the t.v. psychic didn’t answer my letter in a timely fashion; or the boyfriend I couldn’t tell anyone about didn’t want me to take the chance of getting hurt, or something else always kept me from talking to him.
I took a few deep breaths. Then, I grabbed another soda from the cooler under the seat next to me. Then, I took a few more deep breaths. Then I opened the can and took a sip. Then I took a few more deep breaths.
“I know.” my Dad said as I was taking another sip, which I choked a little on at the surprise.
“Y-You know what?” I managed to ask, between small coughs of carbonation and cola gurgling in my throat.
“Tom can come over anytime.” My dad said my boyfriend’s name. My eyes opened, and my coughing stopped. “Just promise me you won’t do anything with him until you hit eighteen next month.”
I timidly looked at my feet. Dad chuckled, and set his can down.
“Just promise me you won’t do anything more with him until you hit eighteen.”
I looked up at him. His eyes were still closed. His smile was still there.
“Okay.” I said, wanting to try but knowing I might not be able to keep that promise. An embarrassed smile cracked my face. A quick thought of Tom and me doing ...things, in my bedroom next month, went through my head.
“And not when your sister’s home.” Dad said. The mention of my sister made that thought of Tom and I quickly disappear.
That won’t be a problem.” I answered.
- What about when you’re home? - I thought to him a second later.
“It wont bother me, as long as it wont bother you if I bring someone home once in a while.”
“It wont.” I said, shaking my head. “It really won’t”. Since mom died a few years before, dad had been so lonely. I wasn’t sure how the others would react, but as far as I was concerned, anybody dad would bring home that made him happy would be nice.
Not to mention the fact that, there would be noises coming from his room, and, though I was never interested in trying anything with him, I wouldn’t have minded hearing something exciting happen someplace around me-especially if Tom were there at the time to hear it, too.
Dad laughed a little.
“If he’s there when I have someone over, then that’d be fine.” Dad said, with a “you crazy kid” kind of tone to his voice. I loved how he was so open with me about things like this. And, I knew I was lucky, since most fathers never even wanted to mention anything involved with “adult” behavior, let alone felt free enough to discuss it with their sons. I smiled.
I kept looking at dad. I’d always liked how my dad looked, and when I was about halfway through puberty, I started hoping I’d grow to look like him. Yes, a part of me already did. A very good part that, at seventeen, I still sometimes had problems controlling. I just hoped the rest of me would catch up sometime, and give me my dad’s body. He wasn’t a body builder by any means, but as small as he was, he was pretty buff. I could never decide if he was built like a mack truck, or a brick shit house. I probably couldn’t decide because I didn’t know what the hell those meant, but he was strong, and big for the size of his frame, and not a drop of fat was clinging to him anywhere.
I was so small, if I swallowed a toothpick length-wise in front of the mirror, I could’ve watched it expand my neck as it went down. Well, maybe that wouldn’t have actually happened, but it sure seemed that it would.
“You’ll look fine.” Dad said in the middle of my thoughts. “Not like me, though.”
I dropped my head with a sigh, disappointed.
“You’ll look the way you’re supposed to look, and that’s something that you’ll appreciate when it happens.”
I looked up at him, not really believing him, but deciding to let it go. It wasn’t all that important how I turned out to look later, as long as dad said it would be okay.
I started thinking about Tom, and the part of me I had received from dad started waking up. I dropped my hand between my legs over my jeans, just in case it showed through.
“Don’t let it bother you.” Dad said, trying to reassure me. “Every guy has one, and sometimes they think on their own. It’s not a big deal.” He shrugged his shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing the front of his pants with his thumb. “It happens.”
After a second of thought, I moved my hand, deciding not to care about it. Without my worrying, my inheritance fell back to sleep soon enough.
I reached my empty hand over the edge of the boat and held it there, with my palm facing down. I heard the empty can come up from the water with a quiet “pop”. As I turned my head to look, the can rose up, and met my fingers as they curled to hold the top of it. I brought it into the boat, and set it on the floor.
I felt I could set it by my feet, now, so I did, as I took a sip from the can in my other hand.
Dad reached down to his can, and took a drink before setting it back. Then, he started taking his shirt off. I followed his lead. We folded our shirts and put them behind ourselves. Just as the shirts touched the floor of the boat, the clouds started to part. The sun came out. It got warm quickly, but there was still a breeze, and in the breeze without the shirts, the heat felt good.
Dad’s skin under his brown hairs had a dark tan. I looked down at my skin-white as a ghost, freckled on my shoulders. Bare as my brother’s ass when he was a baby. A twinge of embarrassment crawled down my spine.
“Don’t worry about it.” Dad said. “A few more times out here in this boat, and you’ll be tanned darker than me.” He chuckled. “And, more hair on your skin by the time you’re thirty than a red-neck linebacker.”
Again, I didn’t believe him. Again, he’d said I’d be okay, so a tan or no tan, hairless or covered in a yeti pelt, I let it go.
A few minutes passed by. I started thinking. I started wondering if I was going to be able to talk to any of my brothers about Tom and I. Not about just telling them, which I was going to do eventually anyway, but actually talking. Sharing things about us, and myself, that I can’t just discuss with any body.
“You can start talking to Josh.” Dad told me.
“Josh, too?” I asked, surprised, about my oldest brother.
“Yeah, and he’s more worried about it than you ever were.” Dad said. “I’d try talking to him, but he’s not ready for his dad to know anything yet. He is ready, though, for his brother to step in. Maybe guide him a little, so he doesn’t get lost looking for where he fits in.”
I smiled. I could do that.
Dad and I sat for a long while. The waves thudded against the boat. The thuds were starting to sound good to me. Comforting. Like being rocked by a parent when you’re sick, or tired, or have just had too much going on to think about.
My second can was empty. I opened my hand in front of me, just letting go of the can. It floated in the air before me, then drifted behind me, and set itself next to my shirt. My first empty can lifted off the floor of the boat, and floated over me to join the other. The breeze had died down, and made it warm enough for me to take my jeans off, and dad his slacks, but the sun had sank a little, so it was still felt only nice. We folded and set our pants by our shirts. It wasn’t warm enough for either of us to go further than that, though it wouldn’t have mattered if we had.  Nothing would have happened anyway (other than maybe some comparison, which wouldn’t have been a problem-dad knew I’ve compared us before), since I never looked at my dad in that way, and he never felt like that toward me. Hell, we could have sat there completely naked in front of each other, and nothing would have happened. It was just a matter of temperature, and clothing-comfort levels.
After a long time, I finally realized I’d had my eyes closed for a quite a while, but I still saw everything around me. The water was dark, but friendly. The sky was a sun-bright blue, with a tinge of dark purple starting to creep up along the horizon. My dad had on black boxers, and was at almost full mast through the opening, reaching nearly to his knee along his thigh. I guess it did just happen sometimes.
He and I talked for a long time as the sun was falling in the sky, not giving a damn about either of our body parts, as they grew and shrank at their own wills; but for all the talking we did, neither of us actually said a single word.
Dad spun his empty can in the air with his hand. We both casually watched it hover for a second, spinning in front of him, before floating over and behind me to set itself where my empties were.
We talked for a while longer before our clothes lifted into the air behind us, and made their ways to our sides. We gently grabbed them from the air, and took our time putting them on, just wanting our time together out here to last as long as possible. Our shoes followed slowly, but shortly, after. When we were covered, except for my shirt that I held wadded in my had, still feeling to warm to wear it, dad touched his finger to the water next to the boat. He shook the drops from his finger tip as the boat slowly started to move toward the shore. We thought-talked all the way back.
When we finally got to the house, it was getting dark. Dad fixed dinner, and he, my brothers, my sister and I ate. Then we all watched some tv. Then we talked to each other.
Then, as everyone was going their separate ways to get ready for bed, I gave Josh a hug, and told him that if he needed to talk about anything, or feelings he had for any one, I was there for him. Josh smiled, and said okay, before heading to his bedroom. I knew he was going to bring up the kid he was seeing, Michael, the next day. This night, though, it was enough that he knew I would be there to listen to him, and care about it, when he did.
I went to my bedroom, took off my clothes, and laid down under my covers. I looked at the switch on the wall, thinking it was too bright, and the lights turned themselves off.
Dad was in his room. I could sense that he was missing being touched, and I knew he was doing his best to take care of it himself. I started thinking about Tom, and feeling my body missing the touch from his hands, as I started to drift into sleep.
I hadn’t been sleeping long when I suddenly awoke.
On the boat, my empty cans had floated in the air around me. My shirt and pants had come to me when I’d wanted them.
Dad had moved the boat with just his finger, and had known everything I was thinking.
We were talking, and I was speaking to dad with my voice, and hearing his voice say everything he said, but we didn’t say anything! There wasn’t a word that had come out of our mouths after we’d talked about Josh, but we still heard each other!
And, dad knew it! He knew everything the whole time out there! He knew I was levitating cans, and that the clouds were coming, and then the sun was coming out again!
He knew I was gay! He knew Josh was, too!
He knew all of that, and everything that was going on, and that I was knowing and doing things, too!
The freak has been out on that boat, moving things with his mind, and knowing things that no one knows –
And he had waited all this time before letting me find out that I could do it as well!
No wonder he liked being out in that boat! It turned him into some super-psychic, freak weirdo!
And, he liked being one! And, now, I was one too!
And he never mentioned it once!!
That son of a bitch!
My dad was a pain in the ass!
And, I may not have gotten his brick, shit house, mack truck body, but I hope my husband Tom thinks that I’m at least half the pain in the ass that Dad was.

Maybe I’ll take Tom out on that boat tomorrow-just to listen to the waves.

© Copyright 2018 Umbra75. All rights reserved.

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